A Winter Sunset
- Creative Writing to Inspire -

The winter sunset serenaded the stars, calling upon far those away hearths. For they light up the Heavens and cosset the Earth. Sunset or sunrise, the constellations are constant. The rosy lit ribbon was a natural chatterbox. How it sang of the world tinted as a spring flower. How it sang of the landscape through Summer’s warm lens. How it told of the seasons of men. For sunset and stars breath aeons air with a perspective of immortal care.

 

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Sunset blew its finest raspberry at the Earth, for below was winter snow, ice and a-shiver. Yet even as it caroled its comfort from above, it secretly created the sky-scape with love. It would not do for the mountains to know, nor the forests that chattered, nor the rivers in ceaseless gossiping flow, that the great sky above cared a jot. One sniff of such a thing its suggestion box would fill. No. It was far better to appear aloof from afar, cool, detached and decidedly casual. So, rascal  raspberries blew with threads of pumpkin and heather petals too. Until the twilight took over with equal feigned disdain.

 

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The winter sunset stole the day’s last heat and laughed, sinking the night into an ice-wind bath. It blazed so merry, those hearth-some lights, bringing a ruddy glow to the frost bitten streets. What was frozen solidified, what wasn’t soon was. Above the rascal robber blazed merrily on. Coffees went cold. Street food chilled unsold. Even the streetlamps stuttered. Pop. Fizz. The sunset picked each heat-pocket until it was satisfied that it had stashed every spark. Then, with a dimming shrug, it was time for the dark.

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